


Up in Smoke

by Ambitious_Rubbish



Series: Kinktober 2020 [9]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: F/F, Gen, Kinktober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26950543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambitious_Rubbish/pseuds/Ambitious_Rubbish
Summary: Taverns, in general, tend to be wretched hives of scum and villainy. That’s simply a fact of life on Toril. But an Underdark tavern? And one populated exclusively by Drow?Better hope Tymora’s watching.And that she’s feeling generous.
Series: Kinktober 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949869
Kudos: 5





	Up in Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> https://archiveofourown.org/works/23466580
> 
> Day 10: "Aphrodisiacs"

Falynn enjoyed a good bit of merrymaking as much as the next girl. She really did. But even she had her limits. That evening at the Elfsong, drunkenly climbing up on top of the bar and serenading the crowd with her (admittedly terrible) rendition of The Sad, Sad Tale of Red Rooster Royce… that was about as far as she was willing to take things.

Unfortunately, “Veldrin of Ched Nassad” preferred… livelier entertainments. And so here they were.

Viconia had said the word translated as something roughly like “tavern,” and while none of her companions seemed particularly happy to be here, they all, at least, seemed willing to go along with things if it meant a good, stiff drink.

But either Viconia’s grasp of Common wasn’t as good as advertised, or she had deliberately left something out of the translation. Falynn very much suspected it was the latter. This was, after all, Viconia they were talking about.

The end result was five people under a dragon glamour that gave them the appearance of Drow, looking awkward and very out of place, and one genuine Drow who looked very amused at their discomfiture.

And then things got worse.

“Immy, maybe you shouldn’t get too close to the-”

Too late.

One of the “tavern’s” patrons took a huge huff from the pipe in his right hand and let it out just as Imoen was walking by. An enormous cloud of smoke caught her full in the face, leaving her coughing and sputtering. Her eyes blurred with tears, and then she began to sneeze.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

She was just rearing back for another when Jaheira grabbed her firmly by the shoulder and clapped a hand over her mouth.

***Hkkkkpppppttth!***

Even under her magical Drow guise, it was impossible to miss the look of disgust on the half elf’s features as she reached into a hip pouch for something to wipe her hand off on. Falynn threw a sympathetic look at her.

Viconia, meanwhile, had stalked up to the dark elven man with the pipe. She slapped him soundly across the face. And she didn’t hold back when doing it, either. The ***Crack!*** when her hand met flesh was loud enough to turn heads all the way on the other side of the room.

Viconia said something in Drowish. Falynn was mostly unfamiliar with the language, other than a few choice words and phrases their dark elven compatriot had taught her, but she was well enough familiar with Viconia’s voice to recognize the tone of a woman contemplating murder. The male did an impressive job of keeping his nerve, but Falynn saw him flinch just the tiniest bit under Viconia’s tirade, and eventually he bowed his head submissively before rising from his seat and practically fleeing out the door.

With the spectacle now past, those curious sets of eyes went back to their normal business: staring into cups or at the… entertainment at the center of the chamber.

“What was that all about?” Falynn whispered.

Viconia looked at her as if she were an ignorant child – which, in a way, she was. “What do you think it was about? He spit smoke in her face.”

“Not intentionally.”

The Drow sighed. “It matters not. He is but a male, who showed disrespect to someone above his station. I probably could have flensed the skin from his very bones right there on the spot and no one would have paid any heed. Instead, I showed mercy. I merely chastised him and told him if I ever saw his wretched countenance in this place ever again, I would break every bone in his miserable body.”

“How uncommonly generous of you.”

“Yes. Wasn’t it? Your influence seems to be having an undesirable effect on me, ‘Veldrin.’”

“I’m glad.”

She snorted. “Indeed.”

By this point, Minsc had managed to secure them a table. They’d taken care to explain to the ranger that it was probably best if he didn’t speak too much during their time here. But even in his altered form, he was still huge (by Drow standards, at least) and few people were willing to tangle with someone that sizable and that heavily muscled. Tavern patrons were all too happy to get out of his way when he claimed a small table in the central seating area. Falynn would have preferred something a little… quieter – something in an isolated corner, perhaps, but they would make do.

Keldorn had just taken his seat when Viconia imperiously waved a hand at him and then pointed towards the barkeeper. “You. Male. Fetch us something to drink.”

Oh, she was enjoying this. Perhaps a little too much. The veteran paladin bristled visibly but managed to keep his emotions under control.

“Please,” Falynn said in a low whisper. The sorceress knew that this was all part of the masquerade: the high-ranking females ordering around their lower-caste male kin. Keldorn knew it, too, but he chafed at the idea nevertheless. Still, he was too experienced an adventurer to let a small affront to his pride cause him to give away their ruse. He stood and did as he was ordered. Meanwhile, Falynn turned back to Viconia, spitting her with a frustrated glare. “You don’t have to antagonize him like that, you know?”

“Oh, I’m aware. But I do it because it amuses me so.”

“Are you really looking to pick a fight?”

She shrugged as if it were of no consequences. “It would help convince the Drow here that we are who we say we are.”

“I don’t think they need more convincing. No one’s looked too closely at us since we got here.”

“Their desperation makes them blind to potential treachery, but they still may be capable of occasional flashes of competence. I do not think it wise to think that just because we have escaped scrutiny so far, that we will continue to do so.”

She was probably right. No, amend that: she was definitely right. The rest of the party had all agreed that Viconia, with far more relevant experience than any of them, was the natural choice to guide the party through their time here in Ust Natha, but that didn't mean they had to like it. And indeed, few of them did. But it most certainly _was_ necessary. This was an extremely dangerous game they were playing, and the sooner they could conclude it, the better. Their luck was holding so far, but all it would take would be one particularly inquisitive Drow to bring this all crashing down on their heads. Their best bet was to keep a low profile, to try and avoid attention as much as they possibly could-

“Im- Isina, what are you doing?!”

Falynn looked over at Jaheira. The half-elf had nearly slipped and used Imoen’s real name, as opposed to that of her Drow persona. They’d rehearsed this sort of thing extensively during their journey to Ust Natha, and Jaheira had taken to the deception much faster than the rest of their company. To hear her almost slip in such a way had Falynn suddenly on edge. Something was very wrong.

That something was her half-sister. Imoen had always been the touchy-feely type, but this was new. And unexpected. And more than a little disconcerting.

Imoen was clutching at Jaheira’s arm, tugging on her elbow, running her fingers over her forearm. And not idly, and not in a way that suggested she was just trying to get the half-elf's attention. There was a... a hint of sensuality about it. And for Falynn, who still thought of her half-sister as the young and naive teenage girl she'd been when they'd left Candlekeep what seemed like a lifetime ago, seeing her be all... flirty, even if it was while wearing the face of a Drow, was extremely disquieting. Falynn took a closer look at her half-sister’s face – at the faintly wistful expression she wore, complete with drooping eyelids and vacant smile.

Oh, this was definitely wrong, all right. And maybe even mildly terrifying.

The sorceress leaned across the surface of the table in an attempt to peel Imoen and the druid apart. But that failed to make the situation any better; it just ended up changing Imoen’s… priorities. Falynn shivered as she suddenly found a very animated little hand slipping underneath the surface of the table to play merry hells with her bare midriff. (Stupid, impractical Drow fashion and its fondness for showing off so much skin.) The willowy mage's fingers were gentle, but eager, something which Falynn found extremely worrisome. She seized Imoen’s hand, doing her best to keep it away from any “sensitive” areas of her person, and hissed angrily at her younger sibling. “Isina, have you lost your mind?” But when Imoen didn’t answer with words, but instead by managing to slip her hand free of Falynn’s grasp and then immediately sending it questing up the other woman’s thigh, that was when Falynn made the connection. “Gods, you’re drunk!”

Technically, that wasn’t true, as she hadn’t actually consumed any liquid. But it was close enough. That cloud of smoke that had been blown into her face. That had to be what was causing this.

“And yourrrrrr shhhexy,” Imoen said, her voice slurred almost beyond recognition.

Jaheira buried her face in her palm. “Unbelievable.”

Viconia, meanwhile, was snickering. “It must have been the smoke from the mushroom powder. It is a… what is the word surfacers use? ‘Aphrodisiac?’”

“Oh. Hells. You can’t be serious.” But the Drow was definitely serious, and Imoen herself was demonstrating just how serious the situation was. No longer content with the little bit of… friendly petting she’d started with, she had moved on to more egregious behavior. Her lips seemed like they were grafted to Falynn’s neck, and every so often the older of the two sisters would groan in hugely awkward discomfort as a set of determined teeth nibbled at the tender skin of her neck in between kisses. She tried her best to push the younger woman away, but it was no simple task. Light shoving was less than useless. Imoen simply rolled with the force of the push and then slipped right back up against Falynn’s side, like an eager puppy enjoying a bit of roughhousing. And certainly, Falynn didn’t wish to actually harm the young woman with anything more forceful. She hadn’t the slightest idea about what to do to fix this.

It seemed, however, that the Sharran priestess did. “Would you like me to take care of this?”

“Could you? You have a spell or something? A potion?”

Viconia laughed. Laughed in such a way that Falynn felt her blood chill. She shuddered. “Something a lot more straightforward.”

“Viconia, I am not letting you bed my sister.”

“And why not? It really is the most expedient solution to this little problem.”

“ ‘Expedient?!’ Isina!” Imoen had grabbed Falynn’s wrist, lifted her hand to her lips, and was busy sucking lewdly on her fingers.

“There are no spells that can undo the effects of the drug. That’s rather the point. And while I’ve heard of brews that can mitigate said effects, they take as long to concoct as the effects would take to wear off themselves. However, nothing works quite as well as, I said-”

“As just ‘sleeping it off?’”

“Mmm. Aptly put. And unless you wish to undertake that task yourself-”

“NO.”

The Drow snickered. “As I thought.”

“Jaheira, what do you think?”

“I think that I am wholly unqualified to address this situation.” She only recognized the conversational pit she’d stepped in when she saw Viconia smirk. “That wasn’t what I- blast it all.”

“If we don’t… uh… take care of this, how long can we expect her to be like THIS?!” Falynn’s voice shot up a few registers as Imoen’s hand – which had been fondly stroking her thigh started to get a little too close to… dangerous territory. “On second thought...” she did her best to fling the offending hand away. “Just… just handle it.”

“As you wish.” Viconia got to her feet. “Come, Isina,” she said, her voice firm and commanding as she put a hand on Imoen’s shoulder, pulled her to her feet and began leading her towards one of the… special chambers that sat all along one side of the tavern’s main room.

“Gods help me, I just asked Viconia to deflower my sister.”

“I hate to agree with the Drow, but… to put it bluntly-”

“When do you ever put anything not bluntly, Jaheira?”

The half-elf shrugged. “As I was saying, better her than us.”

“Do you think Immy will agree with that assessment when she’s lucid again and realizes what we’ve done?”

“It wasn’t as if she wasn’t a hair’s breadth away from flinging herself at that insufferable Drow woman even before this.”

“… wait, what?”

“You can’t tell me you never noticed.”

“I… wait, WHAT?!”

At this point, Keldorn returned with their drinks. Before he could say a word, Falynn had grabbed one of the tankards and poured half its contents down her throat.

Jaheira reached out and tried to comfort her with a little pat on the forearm. “Veldrin, it seems we have quite a bit to discuss while we wait.”

Minsc spoke for the first time since this whole mess had begun. “Boo does not understand what is happening here.”

Falynn folded her arms on the table and slumped forward to pillow her face into them. “Yeah. He’s not the only one.”


End file.
